USA > Connecticut > Hartford County > Newington > Early days in Newington, Connecticut, 1833-1836 > Part 10
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
99
we reached after nearly a week of slow monotonous travel; tired, many half-sick, and some even cross. Here we took a large river steamer for St. Louis. I cannot tell you how restful the change was. Plenty of room: the beautiful Ohio River bearing us on what seemed to us rapidly toward our destina- tion. A good deal of the time during the day was consumed in attending to the large freighting business at the various towns we visited, but all night we traveled steadily, and finally reached Wheeling, Virginia, a city of 3,000 inhabitants. Our captain said we were to spend the day here, and as I stepped on shore, I realized that for the first time I was on slave territory. As only the blue waters of the Ohio River separated Virginia from the free State of Ohio, I expected to see slavery in its mildest form. At any rate, I had the day before me, and determined to learn what I could of this vital question. As I strolled about the city a lack of Yankee thrift was noticeable. The laborers were chiefly colored men, mostly slaves. As I wandered down the river bank thinking over this curse which was clouding our fair land, what a scene came upon my view. There waiting by the river for a lower Mississippi boat which would convey them to a land from which a slave seldom returned, were forty colored men, slaves, hand- cuffed by one wrist to a long chain. Here too was the owner of these poor bodies, a swarthy, evil-looking man, with a broad brimmed hat, a veritable Simon Legree, of whom Mrs. Stowe wrote sixteen years later in her "Uncle Tom's Cabin." Near by was a large covered wagon containing provisions for these slaves, and two slave women who cooked the coarse, poor food and passed it to the men as they sat on the river bank, and dipped up the tepid water from the river and carried it to them to drink. I was so much interested that I spent hours there and talked with the overseer; from him I learned that this slave trader had been over into Old Virginia, where the finest blooded slaves were raised and had bought these forty men and two women. They had traveled over the Alle- ghany Mountains, handcuffed to the long chain two by two, to the Ohio River, a journey of fifteen or twenty days, and no one of them had for a moment been released from the chain. As these poor fellows lay upon the sand they talked and sang their plantation songs, even as they were about to start for
100
the extreme South, well called the "Hell of Slavery." On the whole they were a fine-looking set of men, more white blood in their veins than black, and they knew too much about Canada and the "North Star" to be safe property in Old Virginia. When at last the boat steamed up to the pier, the master gave the word and all sprang to their feet, and I watched with sad heart the long line of human beings with souls as white as any, marched two and two onto the deck of the boat. I shall never forget the look of one of them as he turned his head toward the shore and said, "Boys, it will be a long time before we see ole Virginny again." Was this slavery in its mildest form which I had expected to see? Alas, that boat was heavily laden with the sighs of those poor oppressed crea- tures, whose cries reached Him whose ear is ever open to the cry of the humble. In my next letter, I shall tell you of the prairie land and life in the log cabin.
Grinnell, Iowa, April 20, 1896.
XXVI.
From Wheeling we continued our journey down the Ohio to Marietta, a small town on the Ohio side, settled chiefly by New England people. With the love for knowledge which characterized them wherever their lot might be cast, they had already laid the foundation for the now well-known Marietta College. My own sister Ruth, who had been a pupil of Mary Lyon at Ipswich, had been sent out from New England by the Educational Society, and was at this time a teacher in this school. Soon after leaving this point, we drew near a beautiful island, which had quite a historic interest to me. It is called Blennerhassett's Island, named after its owner, Harmon Blen- nerhassett, an Irish refugee. At an early day he wandered here looking for a home. He chose this island and bought it. With his abundant means, and perfect taste, he helped nature, and made it a veritable paradise on earth. But earthly para- dises seem, like the first Eden, to have their serpent, so too had this, in the person of Aaron Burr. A fugitive from justice for the murder of Alexander Hamilton in the duel fought in 1804, he found a refuge on this island. He involved his gen- erous host in his daring schemes for the founding of an empire
101
in the Mississippi valley, even to the overthrow of our govern- ment. But as such schemes must fail, the arrest of both men was made and they were tried for treason in 1807. Chief Justice Marshall finally acquitted them, but public sentiment never did, and their ruin was complete.
Cincinnati was at this time the largest and most prom- inent town on the river and already gave evidence of its future greatness. Louisville was soon reached. Here the United States government had spent a great amount of money on a canal and locks, to enable steamboats to pass around the falls of the Ohio. Of course it took some time for our boat to pass through the locks, and a great many of the passengers, myself among the number, went on shore to see a few of the sights. The first visit we made was to see the Kentucky giant who was being exhibited near by. He was very tall and large. I cannot remember his exact height, but his gun, which stood in one corner of the room, was nine feet long. I remember feeling as I stood at his side (and I was not a small man) that if he should fall upon me he would certainly kill me. This town was headquarters for the manufacture and sale of the celebrated Kentucky whiskies. During the long trip of one thousand miles down the Ohio, I often noticed that the thrifty towns of the free States, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois, compared most favorably with those of their slave-holding neighbors on the opposite shore. At length we reached Cairo, at the ex- treme south of Illinois, where the Ohio joins the Mississippi, and, rounding the curve, breasted the mighty current of the "father of waters." No places of importance were passed from Cairo to St. Louis. The high bluffs of one side were matched by low banks on the other. There were a number of shot towers on the Missouri side, which were places of interest. A wooden tower was built on the highest point of a bluff which overhung the river. At the summit was a screen through which the hot melted lead was poured, and as it dropped down, down, down, into the water, the tiny bits of lead were shaped and hardened into shining globules ready to be put into sacks and shipped to the shot market. Three miles below St. Louis we reached a point which had been made historic by the great cyclone and tornado in 1814. Having seen the power of such a storm as exhibited in Grinnell in 1882, I cannot doubt the
------
102
٠جرام ٠٠ ٣٩ ٩١٢١ ٣٩٠/٢١ :٠٩١ ٥٠٠
following statement: "The track of the tornado was a half a mile wide, and when it struck the river the water was gathered up as with a mighty scoop, clear to the bottom, and hurled to the distance of three miles upon the Illinois shore." The Hon. John Reynolds, who was afterwards Governor of Illinois, told me, in 1857, that he resided at that time in Belleview near the track of the tornado, and followed it the next morning, and saw fish three miles from the river, which had been carried there by the mighty force. Everything in its track was leveled, but as settlers were few, only one family was destroyed. I finally left the boat at the St. Louis wharf, having ridden for three weeks for the small sum of $3. St. Louis was a city of a few thousand inhabitants, mostly French. It was originally a French settlement. There was some wealth, and a good deal of wholesale business was done for the surrounding country. The people were mostly Roman Catholics. I think there was but one little Protestant church in the place, and that was a Methodist, which denomination was ever foremost in the new country. I spent the Sabbath here, and for the first time attended a Catholic church. On Monday morning I took a small boat for Peoria on the Illinois River. After twenty miles of travel, we reached Alton in Illinois, the rival of St. Louis, with many enterprising men and a large wholesale business. The outlook then seemed in favor of Alton. We spent some hours here and I went to the great store of Godfrey, Gilman & Co., where I saw Mr. North, their bookkeeper, whom I knew when he was in the store of Joseph Hale in Wethersfield, Conn. He was sanguine that Alton would soon outstrip St. Louis. Soon after this date, the Rev. Elijah P. Lovejoy from Maine, established an anti-slavery paper at Alton. It was an able paper and pleased many of the citizens, but there was a pro-slavery element in the city and surrounding country, which opposed the paper from the start, and after a year or two of grumbling, this element held a public meeting, passing resolutions that the paper could no longer be published in Alton, if it voiced anti-slavery principles. The Rev. Mr. Lovejoy was a man of courage and pluck, and kept at his work fearlessly. A mob collected and destroyed the press and threw the type into the river. Ready to test the question of free speech in a free State, he ordered another press,
1
103
and more type. Only a few papers were printed on the new press before that too went into the river, and a third press and type were ordered. When these arrived they were placed in the warehouse of Godfrey, Gilman & Co. and Lovejoy and his friends remained on guard the first night. The mob came a third time, broke into the warehouse, and shot down the brave, true man. From that day, Alton seemed doomed. Most of the new settlers, who now came pouring into Illinois, shunned Alton. The blood of the martyred Lovejoy seemed to cry unto God from the ground. Alton was no longer the com- petitor of St. Louis. It has stood comparatively still, and St. Louis has grown to the great and prosperous city we know. A monument is to be built in honor of Lovejoy, the man who faced death for pinciple and truth. After leaving Alton, we soon turned into that rather sluggish stream-the Illinois River. There was little of interest; its banks were low and wooded to the river brink. We at length reached Peoria, a little town of 250 inhabitants, now 41,000. It was on the northern boundary of the settled part of the State. One hundred and fifty miles to the northeast was Chicago. Van- dalia, the capital, was about the same distance south. John T. Stewart of Springfield was the member of Congress, and his district embraced almost the entire north half of the State, including Chicago.
Here I landed, having been just four weeks on the journey from Newington. As I looked about me I felt sure that if much of the State was like the beautiful high and rolling prairie around Peoria, I should have favorable reports to send to those waiting so anxiously in the far away East. It was now noon, and I was anxious to make my way to French Grove, the home of Thomas N. Welles, twenty-five miles distant, as I was homesick for a familiar face. On inquiry, I found there was no public conveyance going that way. At last I came across a man who had been out to French Grove and said it was a very blind road, and there were only three houses on the way, but he added: "Look yere, stranger, you take this 'ere road that goes west of town six miles till you git to Horn- becker's, then ask fur William Stevens, he lives seven miles furder on, on the Kickapoo River, then git the trail to the Irishman, Atkinson's, at the round grove, then there ain't no
104
t
path, but Paddy will show you how you can git to Mr. Welles at French Grove." I said, "What can I do about stopping 'over night?" He replied: "Stop whenever you git to a cabin, you cain't git beyand Stevens's to-night." It was then noon, and after dinner at the Peoria House, kept by A. O. Garrett, I started out on foot and alone, leaving my baggage at the hotel. In due time I found Hornbecker's, and was there put on the right track for Stevens's. I became weary, for I had been twenty-eight days on a boat, without much exercise. On I went, however, and about sundown saw the little log cabin, and very lonely and desolate it looked in the gathering dark- ness. I drew near the door and saw a little girl of perhaps 7 or 8 years and a boy younger. When they saw me they said at once, "Come in." I did so and asked if Mr. Stevens lived there. "Yes," the little girl said. I then asked for her mother. She said, "Mamma is dead, but papa has gone up to Bureau to get me another mamma." I said, "Do you stay here alone?" "Oh, no," she answered, "John, who works here, stays with us and helps cook." She seemed to understand matters so well, I asked if I could stay there over night. She answered promptly, "Oh yes, we like to have people stay with us." John soon came in with a pail of milk; he also said I could stay there. John and this competent little girl then went about getting supper like old cooks. I was very much interested in watching them. . They mixed up the biscuit and baked them in a little Dutch oven, which was a round flat- bottomed kettle with sides some four inches high; it had an iron cover with a rim, which they covered with life coals from the fire and set on the hot coals in the fireplace. The biscuit soon came out beautifully baked, and we had our supper of biscuit and butter and milk. In this one room they ate, slept and lived. During the evening as I chatted with John and the children, with only the light of the fire, I must confess my thoughts turned often to Newington and the comforts there. When bed time came, John said I was to sleep with him. I slept soundly notwithstanding my strange surroundings, and woke for an early breakfast greatly refreshed. As I was about to leave, I asked them how much I should pay for the enter- tainment. "Nothing at all," they both said, and would re- ceive nothing. As time went on and I passed back and forth
105
L
over this country, I often saw Mr. Stevens, the new mother and the children.
I soon came to the bridgeless Kickapoo River, and crossed on the body of a large tree which had been cut and thrown across the stream. On I went following the slight trail, and looking at the beautiful rolling prairies on every side. At about 10 o'clock I reached the house of Mr. Atkinson. He was a new settler, direct from Ireland and of the higher class. I was made welcome, and he asked me to remain and take dinner with him, which I did, and a good one it was, and served quite in the style of the old country. Here as every- where I found the people anxious for settlers, and after dinner Mr. Atkinson went out with me to show me the beautiful prairie on every side of him for sale for a dollar and a quarter per acre. Here I entered the first notes in my book in regard to land. From this point it was trackless to French Grove, some six miles.
I was directed to a certain point of timber on French Creek, and I left my Irish friend and walked very rapidly for a time, but in going through the little valleys which came with the knolls, I lost my timber point, and on reaching a highland, saw so many points of timber which all looked alike, that I became confused and lost all my bearings, and uncon- sciously quickened my pace as my anxiety increased. I wandered on in a bewildered way till almost sundown, when I saw a little cabin near a grove. My heart gave a bound of relief, for the prospect of spending a night alone on the prairie had begun to stare me in the face. I found a young couple living there, and asked if this was not the house of Mr. Welles. I cannot describe my feelings when I was told that he lived eight miles from there. I was very, very tired, and asked if I could stay there over night. Imagine, if you can, my feelings when the answer was, "It will not be convenient." Just two by six feet and a half floor room, I begged. The answer was kindly, but firmly given, "No, it will not be possible."
This was the first and last time in my life that I was ever refused a night's lodging in a log cabin. These were good people, but not Westernized, having moved from Connecticut the fall before, They had but the one room, and could not see any possible way to take a stranger into the narrow quarters.
106
I became well acquainted with this family, and their children and grandchildren, and many have been the regrets that I was turned from their door on that night. They told me the road was plain to Mr. Welles's eight miles, no turn to right or left. Tired and footsore, I summoned all my strength and ran most of the way. At last through the darkness I saw the light from the open door of a cabin, and I was saved from a night's lodging on the open prairies, with only the wolves, which I could hear howling in the distance, for company. Glad, indeed, was I to grasp the hand of my friend, Mr. Welles, and appreciated to the full his welcome, and the generous hospitality shown to me during that summer. And now my journey of twenty nine days from Newington has drawn to a close.
This letter must also close, leaving it to my next to des- cribe the country and people.
Grinnell, Iowa, May 15, 1896.
XXVII.
Thomas N. Welles was an Eastern man, a few years younger than myself, reared in the grand old town of Wethers- field. He was educated at Yale College, where he graduated with honors, and after a time spent in the study of a profession in the same institution, he was pronounced one of the most highly educated and brilliant young men ever born in Wethers- field. Late in the year 1833, or early in 1834, he went to Kentucky to study law with Judge Robbins, who was a native of Wethersfield and had emigrated there several years before. But if I should tell the whole truth, I am quite sure he was attracted West more by the beautiful Sue Robbins, daughter of the learned judge, whose acquaintance he had made early in the thirties, while she was at the Emerson Ladies' Seminary in Wethersfield. Mr. Welles remained in Kentucky some- thing more than a year, with profit to himself in many ways. He studied law with the judge, successfully made love to his daughter, and obtained a Western experience among the high- est class of Kentuckians, who had among them some of the greatest men and women in the country, and were justly renowned for the truest of hospitality. He added to his honors, in 1834, during the political campaign, by taking the
107
1
stump in favor of the re-election of Judge Robbins, and was called a brilliant and successful political orator. Notwith- standing, the law promised him a brilliant career, he was charmed by the fine horses and cattle of Kentucky, and de- cided to become an Illinois farmer, turning his attention chiefly to the raising of fine stock. In the fall of 1834 he bought two adjoining farms in Peoria county, at French Grove, and the following spring hired two men, of the lower class of Ken- tuckians, with families, to go with him to Illinois as laborers. He also took Kentucky horses and cattle with him to his Illinois farm. Here I found him a month after his arrival in his little settlement of two cabins, with one room each. Mr. Welles lived in one of the cabins with one of the men, Mc- Laughlin by name, but whom we called "Mac." There was no extra bed, but my friend said, "I will share mine with you as long as you are my guest." The one room was our living, cooking, sleeping and dining-room for the three months I was there. The morning after my arrival Mr. Welles took me over his plantation of timber and most beautiful prairie. I told him my mission to Illinois, and he said, "While you are
looking about the country make my cabin your home. I have a fine saddle horse which is always at your command. My books and papers are here; don't get homesick; the change from your Newington life will be very great at first. All the land outside of these few farms is for sale at $1.25 per acre; there is none better in the State; buy here and bring Mr. Stoddard to be our neighbor." I accepted his kind offer, and · for three months my headquarters were at this cabin, and nothing could surpass the kindness and true hospitality of Mr. Welles. The land and everything about French Grove more than met my expectations, and now, as I wanted to look farther, Black Bet, the easy-pacing Kentucky saddle-horse, was brought to the door, and I took a circuit about the grove, and found perhaps eight or ten little cabins; no more families nearer than from eight to fifteen miles. Mr. Welles and my- self were the only Yankees in the settlement and were looked upon with suspicion. There were the two Kentucky families, the others were all from extreme southern Ohio, and were of the poorest and most illiterate class. But a little of cabin life: The Kentucky family where we lived were good laborers, a
108
little above what was called "poor white trash," but they were low enough. Neither Mac nor his wife ever knew a letter in the alphabet, or anything about refinement. Still they were bigoted and felt they were far above the Yankee and boasted of Kentucky blood, of Henry Clay and the great men of their State and of their custom of resenting an insult, etc. Mac himself was a very large, fair-looking man, but Mrs. Mac was large and angular, always barefoot, her yellow-red hair always in a tumble, freckles covered her face and coarse hands, and her eyes were what I should call wicked. She "pailed" the cow and did the housework. At meals she always stood at her lord's elbow to wait on him particularly, whose servant she was. We had hot biscuit at every meal, generally ham and eggs and strong coffee. There were no vegetables in the country. In the family there was a boy and a girl, 5 and 7, and a babe of two weeks. The children seemed to be but little trouble. They dressed alike, only one garment, and that made of coarse tow cloth called ticklingburg. This loose garment slipped over the head, came down to the knees, holes were cut for the arms, one button at the back sufficed to hold the costume, and you have a pattern of the entire dress. They had neither shoes nor stockings, hat nor bonnet, hair dirty and uncombed and faded by the sun. They took care of themselves all day long, out with the pigs and chickens, and at night camped down anywhere on the floor. They were never sick or cried, and their one garment was good for night and day for months, and if ever washed I did not know it.
When evening came the one room was our reading and chatting room, and Mr. Welles was one of the most genial and entertaining men I ever knew, and we spent many a pleasant hour together, talking of the East, but more of the glorious West and the brilliant future opening to it and to us. Our light was from the fire-place, and from the "sucker light," which was a saucer filled with lard with a wick of cotton cloth. Rather dim, you say, beside the electricity of today, but it served us very well. At bedtime Mrs. Mac always went and sat outdoors awhile, and we went to bed, then she would come in, put out the light and disappear, herself. Not many weeks after my arrival and before I had become entirely accustomed to this mode of life and the curoius life of the Mac family, 1
109
heard Mr. Mac say one morning to his wife, that he was going to give her a "good lickin' that day," and added "Your mother told me before I married ye that ye were so devilish I would have to lick you every once in a while, and now you'll catch it as soon as I can git a hickory stick." Welles and I went into the grove near by and saw Mac go to the house with his stick, and soon heard screams, but we kept away till called to break- fast. When we went in Mrs. Mac looked like a fright, hair worse than before, if possible, marks on her face and neck, but her disposition was more to Mac's liking evidently, she was so good, stood by her husband's chair and stroked his hair and occasionally gave him a kiss. Now do you ask why I had not gallantry enough to take the part of the woman and try to protect her? In the first place, Mac was more than a match for me, then he always carried a loaded pistol, and if I had interfered the woman herself would have turned on me like a tigress. I wished now to make a trip southward to the older settlements of Farmington and Canton, to learn what I could about the crops, etc., which would take several days, so I mounted Black Bet and started down the road which brought me to French Grove a few weeks before. Soon I was at the door of the very cabin where I had been refused floor room, but I felt much more independent now than then. Without any design or effort on my part the fact that these people had turned a homeseeker from their door at night, had become widely known, and this was considered an unpardonable act. A certain man I knew was branded as a "mean man" because he took pay for keeping over night a land-hunter or one seeking a home. So much for the new country etiquette. About a mile from here I rode out to see a new settler, William J. Phelps, from Connecticut only the fall before. He was a man interesting and intelligent, with plenty of property. His wife was a refined woman, and they had a family of bright, well-behaved children. They lived in a little cabin with a loft and were happy with the bright prospects before them. This one Yankee family drew the best of settlers about them, and finally he laid out the town of Elmwood, which grew rapidly and made him wealthy. I kept up his acquaintance till his death a few years ago. One of his sons whom I saw in that poor little cabin was sent in after years as Minister or Consul
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.